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by PandaHero



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Hunger Games AU, Minor Violence, dia & hanamaru & eli all make #Nameless Cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaHero/pseuds/PandaHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew what she had to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> oops

She knew how it worked.

She knew how it would play out.

One of them was going to be adopted, and the other shipped off to another district to train; to fight, to embrace violence and make it a part of themselves. To become a Career.

Mari was never meant to fight. She was far too gentle, too soft and sweet and timid. Her hands were never meant to be calloused from the hilt of a sword. Her eyes were never meant to take in the blood of an animal you’d slaughtered for nothing. And even as she grew, as she hardened ever so slightly with the weight of their world, she was still no fighter.

Kanan, you could argue, was never meant for it either. But she’d always been harder, taller, stronger. She wasn’t meant to have rough hands, but compared to Mari, she deserved them. Wanted them. And she grew only more taut; pulled tight and thin with her year-long thoughts and dreams of battle.

She knew what she had to do.

And Mari, sweet Mari, remained as gentle as the evening drizzle, continuing steady without a guess as to what Kanan was doing. She could never tell why Kanan was only gentle with her, could never fathom why she spoke so coldly to visiting adults. She could never understand what Kanan was doing, when she’d nudge her softly and say “Hey, you should introduce yourself to them,” whenever a new couple entered the orphanage.

But the grief, the absolute crushing grief of Kanan’s smile as Mari packed her suitcase, she could understand that.

They seemed nice enough, her new ‘parents’. Wealthy, soft-spoken, and both with varying shades of blonde as if to match Mari perfectly. She was more upset than happy, though. Because while she wasn’t leaving for a new district, she was still leaving. Leaving the familiar bed, and the warm walls, and _Kanan_.

Kanan seemed fine with it, pleased even, but Mari could tell there was something lurking underneath the calm smile. Perhaps it was her white knuckles, her grip on the ends of her ratty sweater tightening rapidly. Or maybe it was the subtle gnawing on her lip, a nervous tick Mari had become well acquainted with.

“It’s better this way,” she had said in a whisper, smiling still. “Right?”

Mari only shook her head, all but slamming the lid of her suitcase shut. It was worse this way. Far, far worse.

Kanan only continued, reaching out to place a hand on Mari’s shoulder. “You’ll grow up with lotsa money, and you probably won’t get reaped.”

And, as much as Mari didn’t want to think about next year, when they’d both be old enough for the games, Kanan made a valid point. The wealthier the family, the least likely you were to have your name drawn. Simple as that.

“But what about you?” she had asked, close to tears, shrugging Kanan’s hand away.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna get real strong, and that way if I get picked, I’ll be able to fight and then we’ll both be okay.”

Reassuring as it was in the moment- to two eleven year olds about to be permanently separated- it wasn’t as easy as that. It was never as easy as that.

They gave each other one last hug goodbye. Mari held tight to back of Kanan’s sweater, and Kanan rested her chin atop Mari’s head and hummed her favorite song until she was near dragged away by her parents.

Kanan cried after she left. Cried, and cried, and cried. And once she was dry of tears, she resigned to what was going to happen. This was what she wanted. This was what Mari needed.

One month later, she was shipped to District Four, where the air reeked of ocean and her heart thrummed grief for the absence of Mari. Two days later, she was given her first training sword, and she cut her hands on the splintering wood. Three weeks later, she had learned the ways of the water, and fished to forget the feeling of piercing the training dummies.

Four months later, she killed her first big animal. A bear. A cub. She stained her old sweater with the poor creature’s blood, and was forced to throw away her only remaining tie to Mari and her old life.

Five years later, she severed a mother bear’s head, dug her hands into raw muscled flesh and thought _“God, let this be worth it.”_

And now, on the train to Capitol with the scent of blood and seawater etched into her skin, she stares at the blur of passing trees and tries to lose the fear of having her name be called.

There had been no one to mourn her, no one to be upset that she was going off to slaughter or be slaughtered. She is a Career. This is what she lives for, this is what she is meant to do.

Her partner is a scrawny, freckled boy who doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He keeps pacing, back and forth, back and forth, and their mentor- a dead-eyed blonde woman with a heavy accent- watches him lazily. Her fingers are curled tightly around the neck of a bottle of Rökk. If her eyes were perhaps a little greener, a little less tainted by bloodshed, then she’d look almost nauseatingly familiar.

“You two know what you’ve been dragged into?” she asks, a strange inflection on her O's and a general slur to her words She's clearly thrown off by her alcohol.

“No,” says the boy.

“Yes,” says Kanan.

She has grown only harder. No longer is she the lanky, uncoordinated child that had given up her chance at being adopted. She is now a killer; trained in the art of drawing blood, and gifted with a new grace that makes impaling something’s throat much easier than it had been when she was young.

She knows how it’s going to work.

She knows how it’s going to play out.

They are some of the first to arrive, along with the tributes from Two, Three, and Ten. Kanan notes, with some relief, that there is only one other Career. Her name is Watanabe You, the girl from Ten, and aside from the subtle twitches of her fingers and the analytical side glances she gives, you could never tell she’s been trained to kill. They get along fairly well, her and Kanan. She understands Kanan’s lack of clear emotion, and doesn’t push for reactions like her district partner does. They talk of anything but killing, and it’s nice. Comforting. Then Kanan sees You with a scimitar in her hand, while they’re waiting for dinner and other tributes to arrive. She sees the wild look in You’s eye as she decapitates a training dummy, and _remembers_.

You is digging her hands into the stuffing when they’re called back to the main hall. She drops her sword, smiles as if she hadn’t just dreamed of a beating heart beneath her nails, and invites Kanan to walk back with her.

“We have to survey the other tributes,” she says, laughing like they aren’t deciding who to maim first.

The pairs from Five and Eleven have arrived. From Five, a twelve year old boy who is still holding onto a teddy bear, and a black-haired girl who looks ready to snap any moment. The boy won’t last long. The girl is going to fight. From Eleven, a short, soft looking girl with light brown hair and a tangible fear in her eyes. Beside her, stands a lumbering boy with massive hands and a crooked jaw. He looks too thin, she looks too timid. They would both be easy. A glance at You confirms that she is thinking the same thing, and Kanan looks down further to see her fists clenching, as if yearning to feel the hilt of her scimitar again.

And then, the tributes from One come in. Kanan sees blonde hair, braided near the top, brushed silky and falling loose over rounded shoulders. She needs not hear even utterance of a name to feel the grip emotion rise in her throat. To feel the chest-compressing, heart-wrenching, bone deep sense of pure _anger_.

She shouldn’t be here.

This isn’t how it was supposed to work.

This isn’t how it was supposed to play out.

Mari’s eyes light up, still soft and kind but so full of fear and unease. It makes Kanan sick.

You notices the change, puts two and two together and realizes that Kanan must know the shaking blonde girl from One, who looks as if she hasn’t even thought about fighting before. Who looks to be even easier than the boy from Five, or the girl from Eleven.

And she can tell from the look in Kanan’s eyes, that should she have a spear or should there be no guards to stop her, she would split the blonde’s chest in two or turn her pretty little neck black and purple.

Kanan turns away, biting hard on her lower lip and tasting blood.

She knows how it’ll have to work.

She knows how it’ll have to play out.

Her hands are rough, calloused. They were meant to protect.

And they will destroy.


End file.
